


A Story From The Past

by besully (Briar_Elwood)



Series: The Long And Short Of It [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Prequel to The Long And Short Of It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 13:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4139157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briar_Elwood/pseuds/besully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two or three years after the Mark of Cain, we're finally getting rid of Metatron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Story From The Past

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prequel / prologue to the DeanBenny Big Bang, The Long And Short Of It (which is being published on Wednesday). It's set two or three years before. It's probably not 100% necessary to read this before Long And Short, but it could help.
> 
> This is canon compliant up to a point... And that point should be fairly obvious after reading.

Dean lets the body drop, undignified, to the floor. Cas is standing there, bloodstained blade gripped tight in his fist. He looks like he’s in shock. Not that Dean blames him. How long has Metatron been a pain in their asses? When Cas finally looks away from the body and meets Dean’s eyes, Dean throws him a grin.

“You did it.”

“ _We_ did it,” Cas amends. Dean steps over the body, reaching out to pull Cas in for a well-deserved celebratory kiss.

“Guys, you’ll never guess what I found.”

With a sigh, Dean turns to where Sam has entered. The kiss will have to wait then. The gigantor glances around the room, a little belatedly taking in the scene.

“Oh, it worked!”

“What did you find, Sam?” Cas asks, something strange in his voice as he steps forward. Dean frowns at him. He recognizes that strange tone, but it’s been a long time since he’s heard it. He follows Cas’s gaze to Sam’s closed fist, something white and bright glowing between his fingers.

Suddenly Dean feels sick.

“Oh. Right,” Sam says. He holds out the glowing thing in his open palm. “I think this is yours, Cas.”

A vial. A swirling white mass inside of it. It’s fucking gorgeous, really. But of course it is. It’s Cas’s grace.

Slowly, maybe reverently, Cas reaches out to the vial, fingers outstretched. He freezes centimeters from his grace and looks at Dean. Like he’s fucking asking for permission. Dean forces himself to give him a smile, small and hopefully encouraging, because if he tries to do anymore than that he might break.

Cas takes the vial, holding it delicately between his fingers like it’ll shatter if he so much as looks at it wrong. Dean can’t watch.

* * *

The drive back to the bunker is quiet. Dean turns on the radio at one point, but he turns it back off after a few minutes of finding nothing to satisfyingly alleviate the mood. Sam looks a mix of confused, guilty, and all around awkward, glancing between Dean and Cas from the back seat the entire trip. Cas, thankfully, keeps the grace where he hid it in his pocket. Then again, it’s also driving Dean up the wall because he can see Cas’s hand shoved in the pocket, fiddling with the grace nervously.

Sam’s out of the car fast as a rabbit when Dean puts the Impala into park. He’s got the trunk open and is gathering things to go back inside before the engine’s even cut off. Sam’s never enjoyed being present for any sort of negativity between Dean and Cas. The front door is closing by the time Cas approaches Dean at the back of the car. Dean keeps his head buried in the trunk.

“Dean.”

He says it quietly, gently. Full of emotion, just like they’re in bed together.

Dean heaves a sigh.

“What, Cas?”

“I… I don’t know what to do…”

Dean rests his forehead on the trunk’s door, breathing in, then out. He looks up and meets Cas’s electric eyes steadily.

“Why is it even a question?” he says, and hey, his voice actually sounds sort of normal. “I know how much you miss being an angel, Cas. Besides, this is actually your grace this time. You can’t give that up.”

Cas looks contemplative. Dean can’t stand it anymore. He slams the trunk closed a little more forcefully than planned.

“I’m going inside.”

He doesn’t stay for Cas’s response.

* * *

All of Dean’s focus is on breathing in, out. In, out. Inhale two three four five six seven, hold two three four five six seven, exhale two three four five six seven. Sam taught him that, back in the Mark of Cain days. Dean’ll never admit it but sometimes it helps. It doesn’t seem to be doing the trick right now, though.

Dean picks up Cas’s copy of “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy, running his hand down the spine. It was an old copy that Dean had found online. Not quite an original but pretty damn close. He’d given it to Cas for Christmas last year. The look on Cas’s face isn’t one Dean will be forgetting.

He adds it to the box.

Everything in the box has some sort of sentimental value. Of course they do, these are Cas’s possessions. Cas doesn’t keep things unless they have sentimental value. Dean takes the trench coat off it’s hook, folding it up, and putting it in the box as well. He can’t remember the last time Cas actually put that thing on. He’ll probably go back to wearing it like it’s his skin again now. The image almost makes Dean smile.

“What are you doing?”

Dean freezes mid-inhale. Okay. He’s okay. He rolls his shoulders back, straightening, and turns, the box in his hands.

“Just packing your stuff up for you.”

Cas looks bewildered. But he’s also standing tall and stiff, like he used to all those years ago. He did it. It’s not until that moment that Dean realizes some part of him had still been holding out hope.

“Why?”

“C’mon, Cas, just…” Dean stops, regroups. “You’re an angel again. You belong in heaven. We both know it.”

Cas’s eyebrows are furrowed together, and it’s that old “I don’t understand that reference” frown. Something nasty twists in Dean’s stomach. He just needs to get this over with. Then he’ll bunker down in the bedroom for the next day or so.

“Is this… what you want?”

How is he supposed to answer that? No. No, I want you to stay here with me forever and never, ever leave me because I can’t handle anyone else leaving, especially not you. I thought we had it all, after two years I got comfortable, and this is going to kill me from the inside out.

But I’m not going to hold you back. I’m not worth it.

“Yes,” Dean says, strong and with a smile. _I want you happy._

Cas blinks. Then his face hardens, a glint in his eye Dean hasn’t seen since the Apocalypse days.

“If I am to return to Heaven, I have no need for material possessions,” he says, words clipped.

But--

Cas turns on his heel and stalks away before Dean can really process what he just said.

Dean looks down at the contents of the box still in his hands. The books Cas had collected. The sawed-off they’d made together. The stupid pink bunny slippers Dean had given him as a joke. The pillow he’d picked out for himself after weeks of trying different kinds.

The trench coat.

* * *

“Cas told me to give this to you.”

Dean opens his eyes to see the bracelet Sam’s set down on the side table that’s keeping Dean on his feet. He closes his eyes again.

“He also told me to tell you that he ‘enjoyed your time together’,” Sam continues, making the verbal air quotes obvious. He sounds annoyed. Dean couldn’t care less.

“What did you do?” Sam asks after a few moments of silence.

“I let him go,” Dean says, his voice quiet and hoarse.

“‘Let him go’?” Sam echoes. Dean is starting to think about breaking his nose.

“Yes.”

“Why, because he’s an angel--”

“Sam, I _really_ don’t want to talk about this.”

Sam’s blessedly quiet for a moment, but of course that doesn’t last long. “Dean, you--”

“Sam,” Dean interrupts, forcing a little more weight into his voice. “Please.”

There’s a minute or two where Dean thinks he may actually have to force his little brother out of the room, but then he can hear Sam moving back to the door. Dean relaxes. At least for now he’ll be able to just… not deal with it.

“You know,” Sam says. Dean tenses. Sam sounds almost casual, but it’s the type of casual that’s usually accompanied by an epic bitchface.

“Out of all the stupid things you’ve done, this is up there with what you did to Lisa and Ben.”

There’s a loud, angry buzzing in Dean’s ears. He turns slowly, and he’s pretty sure he’s shaking.

“Get. Out.”

Sam doesn’t seem phased. “Dean--”

“Get the fuck out!” Dean bellows.

Sam hesitates, bitchface still going strong. But then he turns away and leaves. Dean stares at the empty doorway for a few moments, still shaking.

He turns back to the side table, where the bracelet he’d made Cas lays waiting.

He adds it to the box.


End file.
